


Making Amends

by snasational



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Bad BDSM Etiquette, Crosstale Sans - Freeform, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Vaginal Sex, genital flogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28905843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snasational/pseuds/snasational
Summary: Feeling guilty about his past actions, Cross travels to Underfell to make amends.
Relationships: Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	Making Amends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Askellie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askellie/gifts).



> Happy birthday Ellie!!
> 
> I present to you; one of the crackiest Cross ships you'll ever find. Probably. Maybe I'm giving myself too much credit here. Either way, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks to Bee for being my beta!

It’s unnerving. This world’s Papyrus looks so much like his own brother, and yet they also look completely different. Jagged teeth, scarred face, sharp talons. This Papyrus is made of sharp edges and black leather, and his brother was made of soft expressions and kind words. Even when enraged, Papyrus still looked worlds nicer than this dude does. 

“ _ You’re _ the one that destroyed my home?” Not-Papyrus asks, narrowed eyes roaming Cross’ frame. His eyes linger on his throat, which is hidden by his turtleneck. Cross shifts uncomfortably, and if his hands weren’t bound he’d be fiddling with his fingers. Behind him, his Underfell counterpart snorts. 

“Careful Boss, he’s tougher than he looks.”

“I saw.” ‘Boss’ says dryly. “Although, overpowering you is hardly a challenge.”

Cross disagrees. Underfell Sans is a mean motherfucker, and he fights like he talks. Dirty and rough. He’s almost like Undyne, if Undyne was dust-thirsty.

“I...yes, I am.” He bows his head apologetically, ashamed of his actions from when he and Chara were still fused into one body. He never wanted to hurt anyone. Cross just wanted his family back. And Chara, despite all the horrible things he did, wanted the same. He had honestly thought his actions would help build a new reality for them. 

“Look me in the face when you speak to me, boy.” A gloved hand tips his chin upwards. Reluctantly, he looks the taller skeleton in the eyes. “What is your name?” 

There is no anger. Instead...there seems to be respect? Cross blinks. “S-sorry. I’m, uh. Cross.” He stutters, taken aback by his expression. It’s a look his Papyrus used to wear whenever he and Undyne would duel. Although, something about the look on his brother was a whole lot purer than whatever must be going through this dude’s head. 

“Strong  _ and  _ obedient? You did good in bringing him to me, brother.” 

“Eh, he came willingly. I just tied him up in case he tried any of that funny business.” 

Cross asked Dream to take him here so that he could offer apologies for his past actions. It took him a while to make this decision, and he has intentions of going to the newly restored Underswap timeline next. Dream was immensely proud of him for taking the first steps to righting his wrongs.

However, his mistake was forgetting how...intense this universe is. But if getting his hands tied behind his back and being scrutinized by the most intimidating skeleton he’s ever met is what it takes to be forgiven, he’s willing to suffer. 

“Willingly?” ‘Boss’ tightens his hold on Cross’ chin. “Is what he says true?” 

Cross nods. 

“Use your words, Cross.” He scolds. 

“Yes.”

‘Boss’ smirks down at him before releasing Cross’ face. “Sans, take him to the shed. I have to run a few errands.” 

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Before Cross knows it, he’s being dragged away. He stumbles along Underfell Sans’ somewhat hurried pace, but he makes no move to run from whatever is about to happen. He deserves it. This is his atonement, and he won’t leave until he’s in this world’s good graces.

“What’s in the shed?” Cross asks. Underfell Sans chuckles darkly. The sound of it causes a worried feeling to form in the pit of his pseudo-stomach. 

“That’s Boss’ punishment chamber, basically. I figure he wants to break you in or something. Either way, you’re in for a treat.” Sympathetically, the other skeleton offers him a pat on the shoulder. “The shed ain’t so bad when you get used to it, and he ain’t gunna keep you in there forever.” 

Those words do nothing to quell his growing anxiety. And, upon being shoved into the shed, his fears skyrocket. There’s just...so much to take in. None of what he sees looks appealing, either. It’s like those torture chambers in those brutal medieval T.V shows that used to scare the shit out of him. 

“...Is he going to kill me?” Because if so, that completely defeats the purpose of him coming here in the first place. 

“Nah. If Boss wants to take you here, it means that he likes you. Really, you should feel real lucky. Boss liking you is instant protection down here.” He shuts the door behind him and locks it. After that, he turns Cross around and cuts the rope that tied his hands together. 

He rubs his wrist and continues to look around the room. Various whips and harnesses hang on the walls, and inside display cases that are set up throughout the shed are very...interesting looking things. On the wall next to him is a set of wooden sticks with strips of leather hanging off the ends of them. Cross shudders. 

“Then what is he going to do?”

He thinks he already knows the answer. Red, the new name he subconsciously gave this Sans, merely smiles at him. “Strip for me, pumpkin. He’s going to want you prepared for when he comes back.”

“What if I say no?” 

Red tilts his head. “...You don’t get it, do you?” 

Cross frowns. Red shakes his head like he’s speaking to a dumb child. The action sparks annoyance in him, but he keeps his mouth shut. His purpose here isn’t to start fights. 

“You can’t say no. Boss has decided that he likes you, which means you’re basically his property now. Saying no ain’t going to do you any good, and struggling against him is only going to lead you into a whole lotta unnecessary pain.” 

Cross could just call for Dream whenever he wanted. He doesn’t have to do this. But...well, it feels like he’s already in too deep now. And Red is adamant on ‘Boss’ liking him, and if that’s the case then is there really anything to be worried about? 

He begins to unstrap his jacket. 

“Atta boy.” Red praises. “The more you comply the easier this is going to be on you.” 

He closes his eyes against the flood of humiliation that threatens to consume him. As soon as all of his clothes are off, Red scoops them up and tosses them into a hamper that's situated in the corner of the shed. 

“Boss is weird about clothes being left on the floor.” He explains. “I left a sock in the living room once and he nearly whipped the life outta me.” Instead of seeming horrified by this memory, he recounts it with fondness. Cross decides that everyone in this universe is mentally fucked, more so than he could ever dream of being.

“Oh.” Cross says a bit dumbly. He tries to pretend he’s not standing in front of a stranger buck naked. Frisk would’ve laughed his ass off at Cross’ misfortune, and Cross would never live it down. The little shit would have told everyone about this. 

His throat constricts. Best not to think about his former best friend, these days he’s got too many conflicted emotions on him to deal with. 

“Heh. You know, you’re kind of hot.” Red leers. He inches closer to Cross. “Course, you look like me so that’s a given.”

Cross tenses. “Thanks.” 

“How about we have a little fun before the Boss gets back?” Red leaves little room to breathe. He smells like an odd combination of mustard and expensive cologne. He doesn’t know if he hates it yet, but it certainly isn’t pleasant. The skeleton reaches towards him and caresses Cross’ scarred cheek, the movement surprisingly soft in nature. “It’ll help loosen you up.” 

“Dude, I haven’t had sex in at least five years.” He confesses suddenly. The last time had been with that dog monster that used to live down the street. Cross thinks his name might’ve been Doggo. But even then, he was too drunk to remember. Training for the Royal Guard left him with no time to spend having sex, and on top of that he always had to keep an eye on Frisk. 

Red stops petting his face and gives him a strange look. “Five years? Sheesh, that’s depressing. Yeah, you’re definitely going to need some prep work.”

Well, it’s nice to know that Red doesn’t wish to see him suffer. Still...Cross shifts. “I guess.”

“Great. Come on pumpkin, let's put you on the swing.” 

Red leads him to a contraption that’s on the far end of the shed. It hangs from the ceiling and has three pieces; one long flat piece of leather and two smaller pieces that loop to form a hole on both sides of it. That’s probably where you’re supposed to put your feet, Cross assumes. He must look tense as a board, because Red nudges him. 

“I ain’t like Boss. I prefer being hurt, so you don’t gotta worry about me pulling the whips out on you.” 

Unfortunately, that offers him no comfort. But he’s consenting, so he has no room to complain anymore. Red helps him onto the uncomfortable looking swing, looking maliciously delighted in the way Cross has to struggle to get situated. Stars, this is the most mortifying thing he’s ever been forced to do. 

“You know, I was real surprised when you came back. I never thought you’d have the balls. Even I have to admit, that’s impressive.” Red tells him as he adjusts straps around Cross’ ankles. “And now you’re agreeing to become Boss’ pet with no fight. I gotta ask why.”

Cross averts eye contact. “I wanted to make amends.” 

“Heh, you’re really gunna have to work at making me forgive you for the beating you laid on me. And, well, there’s that stunt you pulled with Snowdin too, but Boss is more pissed about that than I am.” 

Cross figured that would be the case. Dream already warned him that these people are stubborn in nature, and that getting them to forgive him will take patience and work. If he had known that this would be the kind of work he’d have to put in, he would’ve gone to Underswap first. 

“I’ll do anything to pay atonement.” He tells him earnestly. “What I did was awful, dude.”

Red snorts. “No shit. I think you’re in for more than you’re willing to put out, now that you got Papyrus’  _ special  _ attention.” 

When Red says Boss’ name, all he can think about is his brother. His sweet little brother, who was selfless and kind and loving. His sweet little brother, who he killed in cold blood on a whim. “Are you still planning on fucking me?” 

“Well, someone’s had an attitude shift.” Red laughs. “You gotta make something for me to fuck first, pumpkin. How about you give me a full body, tits included.”

Cross balks. He’s never summoned breasts before. Actually, he didn’t even know he was capable of doing that. “How do I do that?” 

“...Seriously? Man, talk about being sexually repressed. Just focus your magic on your ribcage, it’ll know what to do.” 

Cross flushes, but does as he’s told. Soon, a full body is formed down to his patellas, and on his chest sits a pair of heavy breasts. Woah, he didn’t expect them to be so large! Cross stares at his own chest in bewilderment. Once again, Red laughs.

“Perfect.” He praises. 

He then drops down to his knees, making him eye level with Cross’ cunt. Instinctively he attempts to close his legs, but the swing prevents him from doing so. Having his private parts gazed at is...embarrassing. It’s like he can feel the intense stare burn right through his ecto-flesh. 

A finger trails through his folds. Cross squirms at the foreign sensation. The only person that’s ever touched his pussy was the person who took his virginity, and that had to have been at least ten years ago. Red’s phalanges pull back his clitoral hood and makes him gasp when the flat of his tongue is placed on his clit. 

Genuine arousal begins to spread throughout his lower regions. Slowly, he untenses and presses his hips closer into Red’s face. The other skeleton takes the sudden participation in stride, offering the nub a playful nibble before moving his attention downwards. That skillful tongue laps at his entrance and Cross is done for.

His pussy clenches around nothing and he moans loud enough to wake the entire underground up. Fluids gush out of him and onto Red’s face, creating a slick mess that drips down onto the floor. 

“That was fast.” Red says, amused. Cross grunts in response. In his defense, it’s been a really long time since he was last touched. Even by himself. After Chara started sharing a soul with him, the thought of masturbation was just...weird. 

“I hope you can take a few more rounds, because Boss is definitely going to wear you out.” Red grips onto Cross’ knees and uses him as leverage to pull himself up off the floor. Cross doesn’t know anything about his refractory period because he’s never tested it before. He supposes this is going to have to be a learning experience. 

Red’s fingers are on him again. They stroke at his now dripping folds, the digits occasionally dipping in just enough to give him a taste of stimulation. It’s not enough to satisfy him at all. “Please.” Cross whines. He grips onto the chains holding the swing up tightly. His body is taut with anticipation, careening from hesitant to desperate so quickly that he’s nearly discombobulated by it. 

“You make the cutest faces.” Red purrs. Finally, a singular finger slips in. It rubs his walls tantalizingly, massaging him and loosening him up for another one. Red’s other hand massages at his hip in slow, sensual circles. All of Cross’ fears about what Boss has planned melts away with Red’s confident touches. 

When the fourth fingers squeezes it’s way inside him, Red makes a contemplative noise. “I wonder if I could fit my whole fist inside.” 

Cross flinches at the comment. “N-No! Don’t do that!”

Red uses his thumb to rub his clit. “No? But you’re already so loose, pumpkin. I bet-”

They both jump at the sound of a door being unlocked. Cross is the only one facing the door, so he witnesses Boss slam the door open and close it behind him dramatically. Everything he does seems to be layered with levels of flamboyance. His Papyrus was so much more reserved, but for some reason he is immensely grateful for this difference in them. It makes it easier to view Boss as his own person, as opposed to a copy of his brother. 

In his hand is a small brown bag. It’s plain and simple, making it impossible to distinguish what could possibly be inside. The simplicity of it makes it seem less intimidating. 

“You are so impatient, Sans.” Papyrus reprimands. Red laughs nervously and removes his fingers from inside Cross. Briefly, the two make eye contact before he turns to look at their new audience. 

“Sorry, Boss. I figured he’d need a little prep work.” 

Boss shakes his head disapprovingly. “I knew you’d jump at the opportunity to fuck yourself, pervert. There will be plenty of other times for you later, but first I must break in our new pet.” He makes his way to them, and with each step tension seeps back into Cross. If he had to choose between getting fucked by him or Red, he’d certainly pick Red. He’s quite obviously the kinder option between the two.

“...Right. Sorry, Boss.” Red glances back at Cross almost apologetically. “I’ll see you later, pumpkin. Think about my idea a little, yeah?”

What, the fisting? No way in hell! 

But before Cross can voice his protest, Red quite literally disappears. If he hadn’t witnessed other versions of himself do the same thing, he’d be a little more freaked out by this. Red felt like a safety blanket, and now that he’s gone there’s nothing stopping Boss from doing whatever he wants to do.

Cross doesn’t want to be anyone’s property. Too long had he belonged to his father, and it seems cruel that a variant of his brother is attempting to be his owner. All he has to do is pretend for a little while, hold out until everyone is willing to forgive his past transactions. After that, he’ll never have to do something like this again. 

Boss studies him for a moment. His face darkens with sadistic glee. “My brother did good, spreading you out like this.” He comes to stand in between Cross’ legs, his height making him seem bigger than life. Cross shrinks back a bit.

“What a lovely shade of purple.” A gloved hand settles on his thighs. It’s so large that it dwarfs him, and if he tried he could probably wrap his entire hand around the limb. “A body that holds so much power, submitting to  _ me _ , The Great Papyrus.” He sounds giddy with euphoria. Cross holds back a pitiful whimper. 

If it goes too far, Dream will save him. But he needs to do this. So, forcibly, he untenses and goes limp in the swing. Boss makes a pleased noise.

“Good boy. I got you a present while I was out, would you like to see it?”

“Y-yes.”

Suddenly, his thigh is struck. Cross yelps at the sting, and the power behind the strike causes the swing to jostle. “Learn some fucking manners. It’s yes  _ sir.”  _

“Yes sir.” He whispers. Please, stars above, let this whole ordeal be over soon. 

Boss rubs the sore thigh. “You’ll do good to remember that. I am your owner, pet. Address me with the respect I deserve.” 

“...Yes sir.”

Boss nods at his submission, like he expected it, and lets go of his thigh in order to pull out the item that the bag carries. 

Cross chokes. In his hands is a black collar. The inside of it is lined with red fabric, and there are multiple metal loops lining it for leashes. Attached to it is a small, decorative cross. Is...is that supposed to be some kind of sick pun? Cross stares at it with fear. He doesn’t want that thing on him. 

Wait...doesn’t Red wear a collar as well? Cross had chalked it up to a fashion choice, but now he feels like there’s sinister connotations behind the studded collar. Does Boss own his brother too? Does he subject him to weird, insectuous punishments in this awful room? He mentioned whipping earlier, but Cross hadn’t thought of it as sexual until now. 

“Don’t you like it? I believe it suits you quite well.”

No. Actually, he hates the thing. “Yes sir.”

“Excellent.” Boss leans over him, collar unbuckled and ready to be secured around his neck. Cross holds completely still while he does this, mind screaming at him to kick this bastard off of him and run for the hills. Once it’s on, he steps back to admire his handy work. 

“Gorgeous. If only you could see yourself right now, pet.” 

The collar feels heavy around his neck. The weight of it is suffocating. “Thank you.” He mumbles before Boss can get mad at his silence. 

“Of course, I’m afraid you must be punished now. If you take it well, I’ll reward you handsomely.”

Cross trembles. Time to get this over with. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good pet.”

He watches as Boss goes to the wall with the weird looking whips. The ones that have the strips of leather at the end of them. He grabs a black one off of the hook. 

“Fifteen.” He says, looking down at the item fondly. “There are fifteen buildings, and you destroyed them all. Admirable, really, if it weren’t under my jurisdiction. You almost cost me my spot in the Royal Guard, you know.”

He stalks back over to Cross, who’s trying his best not to look scared out of his mind. “I’m sorry.” His voice shakes. 

“I don’t doubt it. I’m going to strike you, and you’re going to keep count until fifteen. For every time you stutter or misspeak, I will restart. There will be no breaks, do you understand?”

Actually, this is a bit similar to a training method Undyne used. She’d have them hold a rock about 20 pounds heavier than they could handle, and then she would make them count to thirty. Every time they messed up, they would have to restart. It’s tedious and painful, but nothing Cross couldn’t handle. Undyne is one of the most ruthless trainers in the guard, if he can survive her version then surely he can survive Boss’ as well. 

“Yes sir.” He says almost confidently. 

Unfortunately, Cross underestimated him. The first strike lands directly onto his pussy. Hard, and with force. 

“Fuck!” Cross curses, flinching violently. The sting is indescribable, and incredibly painful. Boss strikes again, albeit softer this time. 

“I said  _ count.”  _ He snarls. He brings the whip to his cunt again.

“O-one!”

“Restart. No stuttering.”

Cross hisses when it collides into him again. This time, it’s his left thigh. “One.” 

Another, right below his cunt. “Two.”

This time, Boss uses a punishing force and whips at the top of his pussy. His clit screams at the sensation. Pain blooms all across his lower body, his ecto-body straining to stay formed against the abuse. “Th-three!” 

He makes him restart. The next time, he makes it to six before stuttering. Cross loses track of how many attempts he makes, and Boss never loses patience. Each time he makes him restart, and each time he gives him the same amount of impact as before. True to his word, Cross doesn’t get a break. 

Somewhere in the middle of his punishment, he begins to cry. The tears stain his face purple, and the noises he makes must be horribly pitiful. He’s hit so many places that Cross can’t even pinpoint where he’s being beaten anymore. It all hurts so much, more than anything he’s ever experienced before. 

“Thirteen.”

A strike. 

“Fourteen.”

Another. 

“Fifteen.”

Finally, after so long of repetitive and painful strikes, Boss stops. Cross openly wails with relief. 

“Look at you.” Boss cooes. “You took that so well, almost as good as Sans does. A good pet deserves a reward.”

Cross allows his skull to lull back. He doesn’t want a reward, he wants to be left alone. His entire frame feels like it’s on fire, and judging from the wet slide that runs down his thighs he wouldn’t be surprised if he was a bloody mess. If ecto-bodies could scar, he doesn’t think these would ever heal. 

Something large pushes inside of his cunt. Cross has no energy to react to the intrusion. The only thing he really can do is allow himself to sob jerkily. 

“In due time, you will learn to love and cherish my punishments.” Boss promises. He bottoms out completely in Cross’ aching cunt. “I’m going to take such good care of you, pet.”

He begins to thrust shallowly, his hands roaming and caressing Cross’ damaged body. The pleasure Cross gets from it is dull in comparison to the pain he just experienced, but despite this his treacherous cunt begins to slicken and respond accordingly to the stimulation. His headspace is numb, no thoughts enter him other than the raw feeling of everything Boss is doing to him. 

He cums inside, and Cross follows along after him weakly. 

-

Hours later, an unconscious Cross is untied and scooped into Papyrus’ arms. He’s covered in cum and blood, a sight that threatens to stir his arousal even after cumming so many times. He just bleeds so nicely. It must be a Sans thing, because no one else ever makes him lose control like this. Although, Cross is vastly different from Sans. 

Sans could learn a thing or two about submission from their new pet. He hums happily as he makes the trip back into his home.

His brother is, as always, lazing around on the couch. The skeleton eyes them with a frown. “Sheesh Boss, could it have killed you to go a little easier on him?”

“He needed to be punished. Come, help me clean him. He’s just as much your responsibility as he is mine.”

Sans snorts. “I reckon he really is the new house pet, huh? Better him than me.” 

He hops off the couch and follows Papyrus upstairs. “I told you that I was going to make him mine, did I not? And what’s mine is yours as well.” 

“How did you even know he’d come back?”

To that, Papyrus has no answer. “Call it an intuition.”

He remembers watching Cross through that screen in Alphys’ lab. Such raw power and anger packed into one being...well, it led to an odd fascination. Almost an obsession, if Papyrus wasn’t already obsessed with his mate. Satisfaction curls in his marrow, knowing that they both made him submit. With no fight!

“He’s probably gunna be scared of you for a little while, you know. Seriously Boss, you didn’t have to beat him black and blue his first session.”

“I’m not going to argue about this. Go grab extra towels, and the first aid kit.” He may or may not have accidentally struck hard enough to bruise bone.

“Yeah, sure. Anything for you Boss.”

He does not comment on the sarcasm that drips from Sans’ voice. Papyrus will dish out an appropriate punishment for him later. For now, he must insure his new property is cleaned and treated. He sets him down in the tub and turns on the water.

He truly did do a marvelous job in picking out a collar for him. And, luckily for him, Alphys had that charm in the shape of a cross. A magic suppressor. Only temporarily, if Cross shows himself to be as well behaved as he was tonight. Sans had needed one for a little while too, back when his LV threatened to make him act out. 

Cross trembles in his sleep, a sign of a nightmare. Comfortingly, Papyrus rests a hand atop of his skull and massages it the way his brother likes. If they have the same body, then surely the same methods must work. True to his theory, Cross relaxes into his touch.

A possessive feeling takes hold of him. Now that he’s got him, he’s never letting go. And what Papyrus wants, he gets.

**Author's Note:**

> My twitter is @ snasational
> 
> Bee's twitter is @ avosettas~


End file.
